Christmas Thoughts (2009)

Christmas Thoughts (2009)

The muezzin of the infinite and light-emblazoned firmament
Marked the nightly vigils' silent and meditative hours
Of those wakeful, watchful shepherds, Scientific avatars,
Who pondered not dusty constellations of earth's deceptions,
But the higher lessons witnessed in God's refulgence,
Thus to behold the glow of that eldrich eastern star,
Herald of Jesus' nativity, Light's advent in the flesh.
That event was once and not to be repeated,
Yet for those whose receptive hearts wander wearily
Among the darkly lighted trails and travails of mortality
The promise of that holy dawn blesses all eternally.

Malignant Mithridatism

In at least one movie version of "A Christmas Carol" (wth Reginald Owen as Scrooge) the young Scrooge is a fairly normal, if somewhat unhappy, young man. The movie makes the point that his avarice, with its insidious and corrosive side effects, came on silent cat feet over many years until it had dissolved all his humanity and enslaved him under a cruel despot. He probably never realized something had taken possession of him. If error typically announced itself by kicking in our front doors and stomping rudely all over our mental homes with muddy hobnail boots we would certainly take the intruder by the scruff of its neck and throw it out on its keester. Except that evil more often comes politely, subtly, to the door of consciousness all smiles and a shoe-shine, with an appealing and seductive sales pitch, smoother than a hot cup of rich cocoa on a freezing winter night.

Setting a diligent and never-flagging watch is no task for the odd moment, but are we always cognizant of the terrible cost of not doing so? Not only do the little foxes spoil the vines, but as James observes (3:5) "Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" The slightest compromise with mortal mind is a very slippery slope whose dangers are too often obscured in tawdry blandishments. Our dear Master has admonished us ". . . what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch".

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,

from "Reluctance" by Robert Frost

We must also be alert that we do not allow ourselves to be bamboozled by the compromises of others, however much we might admire or respect them. We need to recognize a sandcastle when we see one, no matter how attracively caparisoned it may be. Quite by happenstance an exerpt from an old Sentinel dropped onto my desk. If I seem to be one who doesn't know when to simply give it a rest and leave my tired hobbyhorse to munch his oats peacefully in his stall, I can only say I would rather be condemned for protesting too much than too little and simply drifting along apathetically with the flow. I humbly recommend any reader's attention to the notice "From the Directors" in either the March 1977 Journal or March 5, 1977 Sentinel. My suggesting the value of context in a recent "poem" which touched on the now dreaded subject of full-text Bible lessons also seems to have been pre-validated by the 1977 notice. The sow's ears of grotesqueries and unjustified mutations, no matter how effusive the fulsome puffery which preceded them, should never be granted unquestioned silk-purse legitimacy.

"Tanta stultitia mortalium est"

Consciousness may be likened to a tractor (truck) pulling the freighted trailer of the body. Each trip which has progress as its desired destination will have a much happier and more uplifting ending if the driver (individual thought) keeps his eyes fixed undeviatingly on the road ahead (God and His spiritual and perfect creation), not on the trailer in the rear-view mirror. The trailer will always follow the leading of the tractor, so it does not need to be sedulously, and foolishly, watched, agonizingly tempting as furtive perusals might be. Just as the watched pot never comes to a boil, so the scrutinized body with its afflictions will not be improved. If one is dissatisfied with an inept ventriloquist, he doesn't correct this shortcoming by replacing or manipulating in some way the dummy.

As if driving forward while looking backward isn't risky enough, attempting to drive the truck from the trailer (i.e., using the material body as one's starting point and basis of thought), is even more foolhardy. One may think in his sweet innocency that no one could be that muzzy, but it can be confidently asserted that it has, alas, been tried. Not, of course, successfully tried--just tried. As Mrs. Eddy lovingly tells us, suffering or Science (and probably some of both) will get one back in the cab where he belongs and with God at the steering wheel of thought. "The sharp experiences of belief in the supposititious life of matter, as well as our disappointments and ceaseless woes, turn us like tired children to the arms of divine Love." (S&H 322: 26-29) It is thus that the tractor, and hence the trailer, will be directed to where they need to be and where, in fact, they have always been in their eternal spiritual perfection.

Note: The title, "What fools these mortals be", is from Seneca. Shakespeare's use of the expression in "A Midsummer-Night's Dream" is much better known.

A Gift to Ourselves and to Suffering Humanity

Among the many somber events preceeding Christ Jesus' crucifixion were the failure of the disciples, most notably Peter, to stay awake while with him at Gethsemane and Peter's denial shortly thereafter that he was a follower of Christ Jesus, a particularly painful moment in light of his vehement denial that he would ever abandon the Master. It is easy to "tsk tsk" these failings with perhaps a dash of smugness, but we might ask ourselves "Would I really have acted more courageously?" But then, a more basic question might be "Do I express enough real Christliness to have even been chosen as one of the twelve?" For myself, I'm pretty sure I know the regrettable answer.

Not very Christmasy musings, I agree, but it isn't the birth of the infant Jesus which is of so much importance as it is the life of Christ Jesus. Fourscore and ten of gift buying, wrapping, and opening, tree decorating, carol singing (inspiring and beautiful as many of them are), gourmandising, and jolly festivities won't bring one noticeably closer to demonstrating the Truth, Life, and Love Christ Jesus' works and words expressed. While we are perhaps carving another turkey, ham, or goose this holiday season would it not also be wise to carve out some quiet time in our busy loves to contemplate the object lesson Peter offers and be humbly thankful if we become worthy even to walk in that man's footsteps?

Note: St Louis, I think, inquired about the (unintentionally) obscure last line of the Thanksgiving poem. As I read Mrs. Eddy in Christ and Christmas, Sharon's rose is a reference to the Christ. There are a few Christmas carols which speak of the rose, but what is referred to varies. Herbert Howell's fine carol "A Spotless Rose" seems to refer to Christ Jesus, as does the old German carol "Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen". I emphasize, however, these are my quite possibly flawed readings of these carols and Mrs. Eddy. The carol "There is no Rose" seems to be about the Virgin Mary. The term "rose of Sharon" occurs in Song of Solomon (2:1), of all places, but appears to have no prophetic intent. There is also a general reference to the rose in Isaiah 35:1,2. It was obviously Mrs. Eddy's usage (as I understand it) I was hitching my little effort to. If this still doesn't clarify, to some extent anyway, the last line, I suggest having some sympathy for a well-intentioned poetaster.

The Old Drummer's Incessant Drumming

The Old Drummer's Incessant Drumming

His handle's Nick, Old Nick. Unwary gents
And ladies reap the tares he sows and eat
Their deadly grain. They pay their hard-earned pence
For pleasures false and hopes profane. 'Tis sweet.

For each seductive ware he substitutes
A foul delusion hid up perfumed sleeves.
Nick's jolly lollipops are sticky toots
He trumpets artfully as he deceives.

He's generously proffered full-text ease,
Not context stuffy tomes provide. His hol-
Low platitudes ring true, deaf ears to please,
While soporific fairy tales enthrall.

Who dote as well on sugar-coated lies
As soothing flaccid prayers--those cupboards bare--
Let louche caresses pass for sin's demise.
Thus such as these are guests within his lair.

Thanksgiving 2009

Thanksgiving 2009


Vain seasons ebb and flow. The summer's heat
Now yields to coming dark and cold, a feat
Of nascent winter. Dazzling roses fade
In dour display of floral pasquinade.

The dust dry petals fling into the air
Remind the hungry heart of earth's despair.
O loose eternally the mortal curse
And find hid sacred pearls to bless your purse.

Why not this day depart from fears and fade-
Less blessings gain, your tainted fleshly shade
Put off? What blooms in holy solitude?
The rose of Sharon, God's beatitude.


Note: The source given for the title of the second entry prior to this one was "Westminster Chimes". I presume it is a poetic setting to the famous chimes of Big Ben. The entire short poem is:
Lord, through this hour
Be Thou our Guide,
So by Thy power
No foot shall slide.

Thinking Vs. Knowing

Thinking and knowing are not tweedledum and tweedledee. Thinking is a prospector who might strike gold today, but pyrite tomorrow. Knowing has purchased the pearl of great price. Thinking may be found in the streets of Jerusalem or New Jerusalem. Knowing is a permanent denizen of the latter.


In his tete-a-tete with Eve the serpent wanted her to think about, picture the wonders of, that forbidden tree in the midst of the garden, a tree that was "good for food, and that was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise". Also, a yummy pathway to death. Thinking, important as it is, will not bring us unfailingly into the Kingdom of Heaven any more than it will conjure up a donut with sprinkles on it ("The Fugitive").

It should not be overlooked that one of the three epigraphs to Science and Health, from John, denotes knowing, and another, from Shakespeare, thinking. The two words are certainly not antonyms and may even operate side by side in our consciousness, but thinking does not always yield the treasure of knowing. As has been stated many times before, Christ Jesus' command was to know the truth, not merely think or speak it. Knowing connotes understanding, thinking conceptualizing.

Probably most of us have been frustrated at times, maybe frequently, that our thinking has resulted in such a meager portion of knowing, but Mrs Eddy has made it clear that while the letter usually comes in abundance, the spirit comes in exiguous spritzes.

Note: I appreciate the kind comments on the "poem" a couple of entries ago. The brief critique by LowlyWise, I think, was useful, but I suspect a few more observations may have been mercifully spiked. Some rusty machinery was being set in motion after a long hiatus, and the effort no doubt would have benefitted from a few weeks of aging and emendation. Then, too, desire and noble intentions do not alone make a poet.

"Lord,through this hour/Be Thou our Guide"

The devil will permit me to accept the notion that I am God's perfect spiritual reflection provided I continue to receive and read the business mail he sends to my address. There is no better time than now to send that foul stuff back to him stamped "Return to Sender". Even his tempting holiday specials with 0% APR for 60 months need to be rejected without even a curious peek at the exciting details. They may sound attractive, but so does a con man to a rube.

Some current tv ad slogans are worth thinking about vis-a-vis the Adversary's persistent appeals to "Come on down" as a car dealer used to say nightly. Two are from the same company, Capital One (credit cards), I think: "Don't leave home without it" and "What's in your wallet?" If I leave home without doing adequate protective work or without a solid spiritual sense of God with me, I'm leaving the mail box open to receive whatever the letter carrier, like the cat, brings. I'd also be foolish not to have God always in my mental wallet. I don't ever go out without my credit card, so why should I leave something vastly more important at home? Some of us might be chagrined to find out what is in our wallet (our consciousness) as we head out the door.

The third slogan is from an auto manufacturer, I think: "Expect more". I know, first, I need to expect more from myself. I can be a better Christian Scientist, a better healer, a better church member, and maybe even a better contributor to the periodicals. I can also rightly expect better from others and work to appreciate their sincere efforts to do good. Obviously, however, a tentative or doubting faith or expectation is not going to be a flood tide that will lift a Styrofoam cup. The needs of mankind, and even Christian Scientists are great, and, perforce, our prayerful work must be up to the need. "When the destination is desirable, expectation speeds our progress." (S&H 426: 8-9)

Note: The poem in the previous entry was a fresh effort. I do not intend for now to revisit earlier (sometimes rejected submissions to CSPS) poems, which go back now 10-15 years. For me, poetry is quite labor, and hence time, intensive. I'll see what the stork of inspiration brings.

Icarus Reborn

Icarus Reborn

Demented by the worldly splendor of sin and self,
Flapping feebly and frail-winged into the fearful and illusory darkness,
The apocalyptic omen and harbinger of Armageddon,
He flew too near the baleful and stygian sun of disobedience,
And fallen through the smutty lie of fleshly limbs and ligaments,
Dropped broken and betrayed into the stale demise
Of Adam's Eden, an earthly paradise gone lightless and dreary.
Now new-baptised, heeding the beatifying susurrus of angel whisperings--
Reborn under the ageless and eternal shadow of Elohim's hand--
He soars anew on grace-full Love-feathered wings of Soul.

"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough"

It was not my intent in the previous entry to be snootily dismissive of Mrs. Eddy as a poet. What was surely most important to her in her metaphysical poems was clearly conveying content, not displaying art. First rate poetry is often obscure and ambiguous, sometimes to the point of opacity. If one desires to be clear and unambiguous, he should write prose, which is, of course, what Mrs. Eddy usually did. Those seven of her poems which have become hymns plus "Christ and Christmas" are more than respectable, and I wouldn't wish to be without them.


I finally read the informative article in the November Journal on Mrs. Eddy's unpublished/unknown poems. It clarified one point on the comment that prompted the previous entry. The first of three quatrains on page 54 (the slightly modified stanza from "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam") originally stood alone. It was later married up, for some unknown reason, with the other two quatrains, which I suspect are hers. The author of the article did not detect her borrowing, though I wouldn't have either since it's not one of the well-known (to me at any rate) verses from the "Rubaiyat".

If you like poetry there are a couple of featured poems in the November issue. "Sing gratitude's refrain" (page 57) is a Shakespearean sonnet with clunky, tin-eared rhymes, possibly in a clumsy attempt to breathe up-to-date life into the old form. Since it was an in-house effort, this lucubration apparently dodged the salubrious ministrations of an editor. Inexcusably, the writer seems ignorant of what the longshoremen, who figure largely in the poem, do. The result is as awkward and square-wheeled as the "misshapen steel" in the poem. I think Christian Scientists deserve better than this sort of stuff for their money, but if you see it differently let me know. The Peter J. Henniker-Heaton poem on page 31, a reprint, is much more satisfying to me, not that it's much of a contest.

I don't know if Journal/Sentinal even accepts unsolicited poems any more. Maybe they never really did, but if they do, here is an Xtreme challenge for those who like poetry and possess a touch of masochism. As you may suspect, my experiences in this bucolic field are like that of a Fuller Brush salesman [Is that far enough back for you?] who can't even get the lady of the house to come to the door. At least with articles, she came to the door and listened to my sales pitch before slamming the door in my face. My rejected poems came back, I'll swear, in the next day's mail. I don't know how they did it. Perhaps something like open the envelope, see that it's a poem, notice the name of that pesky author, add a standard rejection letter, and whoosh it's out the door without offending a single Olympian eye. Try it if they will accept unsolicited poems, and the bonus will be that after you have accumulated 40 or 50 rejections you'll have enough poems to publish your own book of verse for reading underneath the bough. You have nothing to lose but some hours of your time and some stamps--and maybe your poetic equanimity.

"Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go"

A comment with query to a recent entry caused me to acquire a November Journal. I haven't yet perused it cap-a-pie, and I do not come to bury or praise this Caesar. To paraphrase Antony once again, if I seem to love the Journal and Sentinel less it is because I love Christian Science more. I know my reach is extremely limited and my influence even less, but once again I would like to encourage any of "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers [and sisters]" to submit something fresh, something you yourself would like to read, to the periodicals. They need it.

I am a poor one to say it, but the periodicals cannot be abandoned to the bog of mediocrity and "The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune". Every sincere Christian Scientist should have something helpful to say. If one decides to dip a reluctant tootsie into the waters, don't expect the first, or second, or maybe even tenth submission to be accepted. Initial efforts are seldom, if ever, very good, no matter how devotedly we may be attached to each of our precious offspring, especially the first, and how much we may resent in high dudgeon our child's barbaric rejection. Persist, persist.

Do not use what is currently there as a model. The numbing blandness and prolixity of much of the prose can be exasperating, and tired cliches poke up their insolent heads with crabgrass-like persistence. Think freshly. We all reflect the one infinite Mind and are uniquely individual. Share the inspiration you have gleaned from your studies, prayers, and experiences. Don't be discouraged by or resentful of rejection. It won't help, and others may as a result be denied what you have to offer. Ask God for help and protect the help He freely gives. Get a copy of Strunk and White's The Elements of Style. It's short and full of helpful hints. A varied menu of high-quality supplementary reading won't hurt either.

It is off-putting that almost every article, in this Journal at least--Mrs. Eddy's Christian Science Journal--seems aimed at a reader for whom that article will be his or her first exposure to C.S. Why does nearly every article need to revisit ad nauseam elementary concepts? Is every reader seen as a metaphysical toddler in diapers? My recent accusation of CSPS humorlessness was maybe a bit unfair, which the back cover of the November Journal will verify. For the actual or perennial 5-10 year-old it might be a delight, but I wonder if Mrs. Eddy would find this embarrassingly juvenile material acceptable in or on her Journal? One might think it was a kiddie magazine.

The inquiry that gave rise to all this had to do with the three quatrains on page 54. It was stated that the first was really Omar Khayyam, but whose were the other two? The first is indeed from "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam" [italics on the fritz again] (Edward Fitzgerald translation) with a few small changes. The other two quotations I do not recognize. They are probably original with her and don't seem to me to be particularly noteworthy. She was not, to me at any rate, a particularly fine poet, much as she loved poetry and wrote it all her life. Her borrowings from others are a curious fact, but they are, I believe, the borrowings of an unconsciously sympathetic and retentive heart rather than a dishonest head. The subject has no doubt been well served by many of her vicious detractors. Start with Gill if the subject interests you.

"I find Thy font and thirst no more."

Many weary Israelites in the sere and sunless wilderness of mortal mind seem to prefer, in a mesmeric perversity, their blissless and bitter wanderings to the strife and warfare which are necessary to procure their deliverance. Kaspar Hauser would understand. There will be no dying, waiting, or loafing their way out of it, nor will there be a consoling sop for the feckless laggard.

One will remain an itinerant Israelite or through many wrestlings and struggles with error become one of the Children of Israel. Brother bird, with which of these flocks do you choose to perch upon the bending branch? The decision is ours. The grumbling of the disobedient Israelites for water at Massah (testing, temptation), or Meribah (strife, contention), illustrates one lesson the wilderness experience offers. Even Christ Jesus was tempted in the wilderness at the end of his 40 days there, recalling the Israelite's 40 years (see Matthew 4). The devil came to tempt him, and three times (another significant number) Christ Jesus rejected the temptations, the final time with the righteous command of Truth, "Get thee hence, Satan".

No one simple lesson can be distilled from the Israelite's experience or that of Christ Jesus, but one admonition we can take from either is that strife, struggle, and mighty wrestlings will be necessary to overcome the multitude of temptations that keep us in the wilderness and deny us the dawn of that kindly Light, a "spiritual sense which unfolds the great facts of existence". (S&H 597: 18-19) Our dear Leader assures the dispirited wanderer: ". . . we can become conscious, here and now, of a cessation of death, sorrow, and pain. This is indeed a foretaste of absolute Christian Science. Take heart, dear sufferer, for this reality of being will surely appear sometime and in some way." (S&H 573: 26-30)

Does Wit Preclude Wisdom or Wisdom Wit?

Sergei Rachmaninoff was a great composer and pianist and a noteworthy conductor. He did not have, though, a buoyant personality, but was rather like a bipedal manifestation of gloom. Someone once described him (a tall man) as a six-foot scowl. This did not, however diminish his musical greatness. It obviously will not do, on the other hand, for Christian Scientists to present themselves (or their Church) to the world as staid, sobersided Eeyores (ref. "Winnie-the-Pooh")--though this doesn't imply that all or even most do.

The total (or very nearly total) absence of humor in the Bible and writings of Mary Baker Eddy is understandable. Theology has never been a trove of jocund or jocular fare. That said, one wonders why Christian Science writing needs to be (or seems to many to be) so dully monochromatic, as if an appreciative snicker at some clever turn of phrase would defile Christ Jesus' words and works and Christian Science and consign the unfortunate reader to eternal damnation. Years ago an editor for the periodicals told me (my thumbnail summary of the conversation) that a Monitor columnist, Melvin Maddox (sp?), was the (apparently one-off) standard for levity in the periodicals. He was an excellent writer, but I do not recall ever losing a button or indulging in a prolonged chortle over anything he wrote. It was decidedly buttoned-down hilarity.

I am certainly not advocating that humor should be slathered indiscriminately like ketchup on every verbal morsal or in every C.S. conversation. Most religious subjects don't lend themselves readily to lightheartedness, which certainly needs to be used naturally and judiciously, but in my admittedly limited past dealings with CSPS they seemed to recoil from humor with the same terror and revulsion that the toons in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" had for The Dip.

A chuckle or good laugh at the right moment can help break and dispel the mesmerism and miasma of some of mortal mind's oppressive false beliefs and promote healing. Humor can help provide welcome light to an otherwise cold, dark, and dreary day. A non-Scientist could well get, at times, the impression that in our strait-laced scheme of things we regard risibility to be a first cousin to crapulence or the use of smack or coke. (The puzzling disappearance or erosion of some needful and strengthening standards is another subject and not one ripe for humorus treatment.) It is true humor can be cutting and even caustic, but it need not be. If the basis for a joke is a common human failing or foible, what's the harm? Not many of us would fail to benefit from heeding the gentle prod that a good guffaw at our own expense might provide.

Lycopersicon esculentum var. cerasiforme

I have come to the conclusion that cherry tomatoes are not actually meant to be eaten. They are, I now believe, a makeweight garnish, like parsley, which offers the bonus of a workout for those who try to eat them. Even if one accepts the old wives' tale that they can be eaten, an assertion which could provide grist for a spirited discussion during the workout, impaling one on a fork is a test requiring paranormal dexterity, concentration, and persistence. Anyone who has tried to spear one lolling brazenly on an oil slick of salad dressing can probably attest to the exasperating intricacy of the procedure.

By now, you are probably checking to see if you somehow found "The Broken Egg: Gourmet Notes" instead of "The Broken Net". The inspiring message I am leading up to (at length) is that for me there are quite a number of cherry tomato statements in the writings of Mary Baker Eddy and the words of Christ Jesus that seem to defy my penetrating--understanding and demonstrating--them spiritually to any more than a superficial degree. No cherry tomato, bless its tasteless little heart, ever resisted more frustratingly. [Just joshing. If you are a member of the Ancient and Honorable Cherry Tomato Society, please withhold your brickbats.]

We may think or hope all the tines on our mental forks are sharp and spiritually discerning enough to skewer any metaphysical Lycopersicon esculentum var. cerasiforme set before us, but the qualities needed for an increased spiritual sense of the Word are many and ever in need of honing. More effective prayer, an ear more attuned to angel and still small voices, greater humility and purity , much less self and self-justification, more effective watching, untiring effort, sedulous study of the Bible and writings of Mary Baker Eddy, endless patience, increased love expressed in thought and action, to name a few. The list is formidable, but these qualities and actions are some of what it takes to be worthy of the name Christian Scientist. I hope there are no cries for cherry tomatoes instead.

Note: Kentucky windage is, I think, an informal term for the intuitive correction in aim a rifleman makes to account for the deflecting action of a crosswind on a bullet. If it isn't, that is what I meant.

Fore!

There is something to be said for being a golfer on the rigorous course of human experience who is always playing from thicket-like rough, the lone fairway pit bunker, the drop zone near the pond, the deep green-side sand trap, or the long grass on the short side of a green which runs away sharply (Two solid chips and two firm putts should do it.). Just what cheerful and uplifting little something might that be? That this seeming duffer slicing and hooking his plus-foured way down the links of life is getting invaluable experience meeting and crossing clubs with some of the worst that mortal mind can insinuate or arrogate into man's path. Overcoming each obstacle, sometimes repeatedly until the lesson it offers is mastered, toughens one mentally and forces him to grow spiritually (or abjectly succumb).

Decades of humdrum elbowing, shoving, and toe treading might not accomplish as much as a few years of dragging one's bag of understanding, however limited at the outset, around a diabolical (mental) course. This is not to justify or endorse, however, a grim Sisyphean existence which is all push, stumble, and skinned knees up a steep incline and without even an occasional level spot to chock momentarily the vicious lie of life in matter while one catches his breath. Before the crown is won there will be countless false beliefs to meet and defeat and meet and defeat again, so the more resolute and vigorous today's consecrated effort, the more rewarding tomorrow's experience will surely be. Till at last the blessing of Mrs. Eddy's promise is won and the "course" is finished with joy.

"Missed It By That Much!"

Mrs. Eddy ascribes to the serpent many firsts. Unfortunately, we haven't yet witnessed the lasts of those firsts. Some serpents need to be decisively handled, taken by the tail. Others have a disarming gift of gab, the mesmerizing and deceiving power of a used (pre-owned) car salesman or a snake oil huckster. If we are not constantly alert and watchful, even the gentlest mesmeric crosswind can deflect our work and intentions by just that much, and even a near miss is a miss. Clinging to God with all our might will enable us to avoid error's subtle deflections with the necessary yaw or Kentucky windage to keep us on course.

"Things are seldom what they seem,/Skim milk masquerades as cream;/Highlows pass as patent leathers;/Jackdaws strut in peacock's feathers." (G&S, "HMS Pinafore") A hopeful, faltering, or wishful effort will not generally suffice, since as the poet says, "Faint heart never won fair lady!" (G&S, "Iolanthe") Ivory Soap's 99 &44/100ths % pure is still not the perfectly pure which may be necessary for our spiritual progress and healing. "Bad language or abuse,/I never, never use,/. . . Though 'Bother it' I may/occasionally say,/I never use a big, big D--/What never?/No, never!/What, never?/Hardly ever!" (G&S, "HMS Pinafore")

I need to remind myself often that the song of Christian Science is "Work--work--work--watch and pray." Scrupulous attention to spiritual detail, which is required of those who have "named the name of Christ", should leave no time for a bit of "harmless" canoodling with the serpent, a dalliance which can only result in being inveigled by its seductive whisperings.

Spontaneity: Spiritual Variations on the Letter

"'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?/ Come to my arms my beamish boy!/ O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'/ He chortled in his joy." (Lewis Carroll, "Jabberwocky") It is our divine right and duty to defeat each day, each hour if necessary, some aspect of mortal mind and be joyfully welcomed anew, like the prodigal son, into the loving arms of our Father-Mother God. I certainly can't imagine God chortling over anything or exchanging knee-slappers over spinach dip and chips, but His presence and love are always here to be felt sans chortle.

No day should pass without our gaining a fresh and spontaneous unfolding, however simple, of some aspect of God and His reflection, man. If the chewing gum of our inspiration has lost its flavor on the bedpost over night (as that silly song suggests) or over many years, we may need to claim more understandingly our oneness with the one Mind and pray and fast our way into greener pastures. I have commented before on the limitless possibilities for variations on a theme in music. The best variations are blessed with inspiration and spontaneity. No two of us understand and express God in exactly the same way. Unlimited individuality, and hence infinite variety, is the only way infinite Mind could be expressed, and the ability to do so is ours as expressions of divine Mind.

We must constantly demand of ourselves newness, freshness, and abundant fructification, which will assure that error is being overcome step by step, here a little and there a little, with Truth. Thinking of this activity in musical terms might help us deverbalize prayer and open our hearts more spontaneously to feeling the power of the Word, as Mrs. Eddy expected. It seems to me that the more "musical" our thinking becomes the less intellectual or literal it will be and the nearer we will come to enriching our affections with pure Christ, Truth, which cannot fail to save and heal.

Note: I regret giving the impression in my Terminator "review" that there would be a sequel. That statement was merely a feint at verisimilitude. No follow-up is simmering on a back burner, so that earlier entry will probably be a one-off.

Trimming the Recalcitrant Wick

It is something of a mystery, but also a matter of some self-reproach and embarrassment, that I, like perchance a few others, continue to blink open my eyes each morning to the hideous Medusa of mortal mind and with an almost familial toleration of its destructive and malevolent nature. It wants me dead, and yet I proceed matin after matin to eat contentedly a bowl of cereal in its corrosive presence. Of course I work and pray to overcome false belief and to be a better Christian Scientist, but there doubtless remains the subtle attraction to think too much "of many things:/Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--/Of cabbages--and kings--/And why the sea is boiling hot--/And whether pigs have wings." (Lewis Carroll, "Alice Through the Looking Glass")

Just because I'm not goldbricking--at least I hope not--doesn't mean I can venture out to meet the Adversary with a butter knife in one hand and in the other one of those pistols that has a flag which drops down saying "Bang!" when the trigger is pulled. Notebooks full of comforting, well-thumbed quotations and truths which have become little more than bromides won't do. A deeper--far deeper--spiritual sense of the word is needed, desperately needed. Not frantic page turning, but more watchful, prayerful, patient, and humble awareness of God's omnipresence and omnipotence. More of the spiritual pectin of grace would doubtless help Truth, Life, and Love to "jell" in consciousness. Too many undigested truths can race around in restless and unimproved thought, elbowing and tripping each other like so many Stooges in a metaphysical roller derby.

In some of us--well, speaking for myself--there inhabits, in spite of wonderful intentions, a bit too much of grand Oblomov (the hero of a novel of that name by Goncharov), of well-intentioned indolence. No, of course I don't set out to strike a convivial pose with the devil, but Mrs. Eddy's warnings about animal magnetism and aggressive mental suggestion must be resolutely locked and loaded in consciousness. Mrs. Eddy wrote in "Miscellany" (241: 6-9) about the need for being alert to mortal mind's attempts to undermine advancement where class instruction is concerned. It seems to me her admonition could just as easily apply to any Christlike endeavor we are inspired to undertake.

A Brief Review of "Terminator VII: Bug Hunt"

In the ominous prelude we see Christian Scientists, and all mankind for that matter, slumbering restlessly, like Fasolt (in Wagner's Ring), with their hoard of ill-gotten materiality. Stupefied, deceived, and sedated by the bold and aggressive mental suggestions of Big Bug, too many had simply conceded the field of battle to a false personal sense of reality which had become acceptably familiar over the many years of false education, being unwilling and now unable to cling to the God they had lost sight of with their now blinded eyes. They knew they needed to wake up and rouse themselves, but could never get beyond an ashamed admission that they needed to wake up and rouse themselves. "Human hypotheses first assume the reality of sickness, sin, and death, and then assume the necessity of these evils because of their admitted actuality." (S&H 481: 19-22) Thus their willing suspension of disbelief continued and deepened.

The drama proper begins when from some unexplained source a fresh wind of Truth swirls across the land and breaks the miasma of Big Bug's animal magnetism. The mise en scene is best described by the opening sentence of Kafka's "The Metamorphosis": "As Gregor Saamsa [read each loyal Christian Scientist] awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect." What sporadic, lethargic, and indecisive confrontations with Big Bug had not accomplished the sight of those insect legs wiggling helplessly in the air had. Now many of these students of Christian Science were thoroughly awake and knew it was time to make a deadly serious, if delinquent, reacquaintance with the Terminator, the Exterminator of error, man's omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient Father-Mother God. The apathetic, cold-war co-existence with Big Bug and its personalized little bugs was over. Pages in the Bible and writings of Mary Baker Eddy long only politely and dreamily consulted were now examined and pondered with scrupulous, prayerful, and humble intensity. The stains of sweaty fingers and tears of remorse marked many of them. It was time to confront Big Bug head-on, but now, like Fasolt, he had been transformed into a dragon, in this case the great Red Dragon. The hideous and malignant nature of mortal mind was now fully apparent, and there could be no further putting off of its destruction. The tools of spiritual warfare must never again lie idle for a day.

The movie does not end with the final defeat of Big Bug. The battle of Armageddon continues and may be resolved in the next installment, "Health and Peace Restored".

Yielding to the Irresistible, Wading in Again

When I was younger (humanly) I used to avoid the trial in Science and Health (P. 430 ff.). Like Joe Friday on the old "Dragnet" I just wanted the facts, if I wanted anything, truths laid out like a string of bread crumbs which I could at least make a pretense of following. The trial required thought, and why didn't Mrs. Eddy just tell me in plain English what she wanted me to know? It is obvious now that she treated the subject in the way which would best educate the reader if he was of a mind to be educated and had the humility and patience to ponder the proceedings.



The trial takes up over 12 pages of S&H [the italics button is not working again], and it is certain Mrs. Eddy didn't spend even one sentence on something superfluous. No one will regret exchanging his low-cut shoes or sneakers for some serious high-top boots and wading into the trial, the further the better. In the previous entry I wondered about ruminating after feeling ill, but of course the moment we feel ill is the moment we can choose one of two courses. We can as, Mrs Eddy says, promptly and persistently oppose the suggestion of illness with Christian Science or we can ruminate and let the trial begin. Mortal Man may be the defendant, but the allegory quickly goes from "a man" to "the patient" to "the prisoner", which is his designation until the final page. Mrs. Eddy may have used Mortal Man as the title of the defendant in order to emphasize the need to depersonalize the claims of Personal Sense.

It is also a point of note that the prisoner became ill in the act of doing good. This seems to resonate with the test of all prayer in S&H (13: 5-16) and that equally compelling statement in Miscellaneous Writings (342: 5-9). Viewed in the light of these passages the trial adumbrates a sobering obligation for all Christian Scientists, but one which should be joyfully undertaken.

If we are sincere Christian Scientists, the Court of Spirit may be in session frequently, perhaps daily and hourly if we are confronting faithfully and courageously the legions of errors that beset all mortals. It is imperative that Christian Science be our counsel in these trials. If so, we can confidently expect a verdict of "not guilty". "So we beat on, boats against the current. . . ." (The Great Gatsby) The trial in S&H has much to offer and unfolds endlessly to our attempts to embrace it, even if it seems initially as unembraceable as, well, say "Fatty" Arbuckle's no doubt ample equator.

Note:
Perhaps the reason at least one reader didn't get the Zorro title is that it's dopey. Well meant, but dopey. A good candidate for the cash for clunkers program, along with some others, if that offer hadn't expired. However, I hope I am not alone in remembering this early tv program. Part of the introduction was Zorro's rapier swish, swish, swishing the three strokes of the letter Z. In the far more clean and morally unambiguous days of early television it and other similar programs nearly always presented a weekly catharsis of good over evil and right over wrong. I was hearkening back clumsily to that in the Zorro title, but this apologia doesn't make it any, ahem, zippier, I know. Ad astra per aspera.

Shucking More Mental Oysters For Pearls

Is the usage of the word "trial" essentially the same in Mrs. Eddy's familiar statement "Trials are proofs of God's care" (S&H 66: 10-11) and in the equally familiar trial in "Christian Science Practice" (p. 430 ff.)? It seems likely and if so would indicate the, or at least a, Scientific method of meeting the trials that beset us. Even if mortal mind isn't setting upon us like a raging Mike Tyson, it can still be afflicting silently and unseen in unconscious thought, like satanic termites. There is always plenty that needs doing, and not just faute de mieux. Many of us could probably forgo profitably another dismal episode of "Desperate Housewives" [No, I've never seen it.] or the evening's football game and do some good metaphysical work instead on whatever comes to us.

Trying to get around the trial is like trying to circumnavigate Oprah. There is always more there than you think. [just kidding] I noticed recently that the patient first felt ill, then ruminated. Off the cuff, I would probably have said the rumination produced the illness or at least validated it. I also noticed that the poor patient is not the defendant in the trial, but Mortal Man. As Arte Johnson used to say on "Laugh In" "Very interesting". To wade in further would be more temerity and half-baked surmise on my part than certainty, but it may be worth giving some thought to.

Finally, there is, or was in days of yore, an accepted offensive tactic in hockey of "headman the puck", get it to the player who is furthest advanced. I know I need to introduce to thought truths which advance me beyond my present position. If I fail to do so and lazily default to a familiar chestnut, however helpful it may have proved to be in the past, I may find myself instead "ragging the puck", killing time. Maybe a lot of mental activity, but no advance in thought and the chance for a shot on goal. This isn't a rule or certainty, of course, but to mindlessly rely on a kind of Hobson's choice may not serve us best or as well as some vigorous stretching, even if we rip an old seam or two in the process.

Zealous Zorros Zip Zip Zipping Senor Zero

Mortal mind is a will-o'-the wisp, but it is no blithe wish-away will-o'-the-wisp. It's sinister wisps must be found out and dispelled one by one, and the better equipped (spiritually) we are the easier the task will be. Many wisps will not be eradicated until they are brought to trial (in our consciousness) in the Court of Spirit and a verdict rendered against each of these gossamer lies of Personal Sense. Our court docket may need to be kept full while we emerge from sense to Soul.

With the Bible and Science and Health as the Clausewitzes in our spiritual warfare, we should vigorously pursue each error in our thinking to its inevitable destruction. One of history's most brilliant conversationalists and arguers was Dr. Samuel Johnson. He relished a spirited verbal engagement, the probem being that he often continued his assault after the hapless adversary had been vanquished. Oliver Goldsmith said of Johnson: "There is no arguing with Johnson: for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it." False belief does need to be confronted with that degree of vigor, but we must not lose sight of the fact that it is Truth that does the work, not us, and that a too energetic attack might have the opposite effect of making more a reality of evil than it is--which is to say no reality at all, a mere will-o'-the-wisp.

". . . the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds" (II Cor 10: 4).

Note: In reference to the previous entry, of course God is no mere chef or even chief, and man is more than a scullion. It was a flawed analogy. I changed the title of the entry on the wing, as it were, but could not afterward verify anywhere that a "pearl diver" was an accepted droll moniker for a dishwasher, which I was once in my youth. A person who dived for pearls was one who, humorously, washed dishes. Maybe a D for effort on that one.

When The Pearl Diver Advises The Chef

It may be a cliche that all life's good stuff is either sinful or fattening. One more Twinkie or Goo-Goo Bar might not add to the ledger of things best left undone, but there are other seductive "Twinkies" and "Goo-Goo Bars" that will take a lot of sweating to pay for. For many of us the hour may be later than we would wish for getting God totally in charge of our lives. Mrs. Eddy tells us that we should attempt nothing without His help and that He should be permitted to guide our every thought and action. Maybe He could cut us a little slack and make it four or five out of seven?

Even our best intentions can find us driving from the back seat or conscientiously attempting to steady His uncertain hand on the steering wheel. The lives of many of us would be immeasurably more harmonious if we let Him do the directing and we do the following obediently, unhesitatingly, and humbly. He isn't just a co-pilot either. Either He is All and we are one with Him as His perfect reflection and idea or that is not the case. There is no Goldilocks "just right" middle ground, and fighting Him for the wheel will only lead to further misadventures.

If we decided to capture every thought we have during one day and present them to God for approval, what would the final tally be? If to avoid an overplus of embarrassment we whisked off the obvious clinkers to a closet, would we have a sobering rival to Fibber McGee's at day's end? We may know intellectually that the tiniest speck of error in thought or action can engender much to be repented of while we are at leisure, but still some of us order ourselves on like Admiral Farragut at Mobile Bay: "Damn the torpedoes! Captain Drayton, go ahead! Jouette, full speed!" He avoided them. We may not.

There is only room in our lives for one Chef, and His name is God, not Miss Piggy's immodest "moi". Getting totally and unequivocally right with God may take some doing, but it's got to be done if we are to put the lies of aggressive mental suggestion behind us forever.

Note: The possessive of one is obviously not ones, but one's. I'd go back and correct these goofs, but there are probably at least two or three hundred of them. "Fap!", as Major Hoople used to say.

The Boarding House Reach Goes For Seconds

I should probably leave well enough alone, but at least a couple of the comments to the second entry before this one compel a respose. We all should strive for and expect to attain a level of understanding and demonstration in which the Bible and writings of Mary Baker Eddy are all of the letter we need. If one has today the metaphysical chops to stick entirely to these works, by all means play on, play on, but to claim a higher position where ones reach has exceeded his grasp could inhibit growth rather than enhance it. That is why most of us, whether we admit it or not, still need to look for "All good, where'er it may be found" (hymn 224). To wrap oneself defiantly in the textbooks, like protean Balzac wrapped majestically in his cloak in Rodin's powerful sculpture, could well be to tempt disappointment and unnecessary trials.

To be stubbornly determined to blaze ones own trail out of the deep snows of false belief, mortal mind, when one could possibly make far more rapid progress following in the capacious steps of a King Wenceslas might be for many what Martha Stewart called "a good thing". One obviously can't expect to rely on others forever, but to deny oneself the helpful inspiration, guidance, and wisdom of those who have gone triumphantly before could result in unnecessary lingering in the Slough of Despond and on Hill Difficulty.

Someone may say: "I barely have time to read the lesson or the textbooks. I certainly don't have time to read anything else." Well, we usually find plenty of time to extricate ourselves from an assortment of pits, snares, and briar patches and the Gordian knots we tie ourselves into, so why not proactively take that time to get to know God better by any path He has provided? In the end we might even save time by a more efficient use of the truths we have learned in Christian Science. If we are humble and trustful, God will show us where we need to go, and it may well be the books and only the books, but at early and intermediate stages of our progress, we shouldn't shun or deny ourselves the wisdom and inspiration of the intrepid pioneers. They certainly didn't write for the dusty edification of the bookshelves in Reading Rooms.

My comments on Louise Knight Wheatley/Cook/Hovnanian were not intended to be flip, but obviously trod ungraciously on the toes of some. Were she unworthy, she would not have been chosen out of the thousands of writers who have written for the periodicals over the years. The comment that she may have been a professional writer of novels could shed light on my earlier remarks in another way--as a writer she was almost too facile. For some, at least, not all her articles justified the lavish attention she gave to the subjects. The overriding point is still that one should explore these and the many other early writers and make the invigorating acquaintance of some wise and uplifting practitioners of the art of Christian Science.

But enough, enough! If, however, as a result of that blog entry, just one person seeks out and finds one of these writers to be a blessing to him my time will not have been wasted nor, I hope, will your fleeting impatience with much too much on this subject go unreimbursed.

Riding Sidesaddle Won't Suffice Either

The allure of comic-book action heroes--Superman, Spiderman, Batman, Iron Man, et al.--largely eludes me. Perhaps their heroics (if that's the right word) add a necessary splash of color to otherwise nebbishy lives. The dreamy fantasizing of a Walter Mitty at least requires an active imagination, but no matter how charming it, too, leaves nothing meaningful in its wake. The only action hero that is going to get the real job of being a Christian in the highest sense done is Christian Science Soldier Man, allegiant solely to God, wholly dedicated to following Christ, and singlemindedly undeviating in purpose.

His marching orders are laid out clearly in the Bible, Science and Health, The Church Manual, and the other writings of Mary Baker Eddy, and he knows that a soldier who disobeys his orders is subject to discipline. The writings of Mrs. Eddy are not only replete with duties and "musts", but action verbs and phrases as well. Here are some of those actions from one chapter of S&H, "Atonement and Eucharist": demonstrate, strive, reform, believe, sacrifice, go and do likewise, understand, take up arms, grapple with, keep the faith, work out, obey, drink his cup, take his cross, heal the sick, cast out evils, preach Christ, emulate, abide in him, lay ones earthly all on the altar of divine Science.

No Christian Scientist should allow himself to be addled by muzzy sophistries which result in his tacit acceptance that a little light mental vacuuming, dusting, and superficial rearrangement of the furniture is evidence of a valid effort to practice genuine discipleship any more than the rakish spurring on of a hobby horse is a demonstration of real horsemanship. Every sincere Christian Scientist's duty, must, and action requires an unflagging commitment to following Christ. Unfair as it might seem, anything less is, at bottom, apostasy, and while apostates may seem to be galloping confidently on to a glittering somewhere, when they get there the hitching post won't be in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Crackerjacks

A comment (or two) to my recent reference to Emma Shipman has prompted me to repeat some recommendations of inspired and uplifting writers for the periodicals from, with a few exceptions, 1900 to about 1960. It is obvious from recurring comments that the writing in the periodicals these days is for many "a little lacking in sparkle" ("Kind Hearts and Coronets"--a guilty pleasure).

Many of the early standouts were editors: William P. McKenzie, Archibald McLellan, Annie M. Knott, Ella Hoag (a possible primus inter pares), and Violet Ker Seymer. Samuel Greenwood, Emma Shipman, Martha Wilcox, and Milton Simon are, for me, the creme de la creme, though there isn't much available from Emma Shipman and most of Martha Wilcox is her association papers. Ms Wilcox served in Mrs. Eddy's household for a couple of years, so her metaphysics obviously come directly from the source. Also top drawer are Dr. John Tutt, Paul Stark Seeley, and the more recent Geoffrey Barratt. Add to them L. Ivimy Gwalter, Arthur Wuth, and Alan Aylwin.

I've no doubt overlooked someone's favorite, but this isn't intended to be a definitive list. Many Scientists would doubtless recommend very highly Bicknell Young, but for some reason I have read very little of his, and much of what is available are his voluminous association papers, letters, etc. Until recently I would have placed Blanche Hersey Hogue very high on the list. She is one of only two or three writers Mrs. Eddy recommends in her published writings (Miscellany), but she wrote a lot over many decades and often for the Journal. The Journal articles especially seem intended for some official archive or a church cornerstone. They are often heavy, Victorian, overstuffed furniture--antimacassars everywhere--and have at times a stilted style. Still she has much to say, though trekking through her complete writings would be a major undertaking.

Ditto the equally prolific Louise Knight Wheatley/Cook/Hovnanian. She is the Elroy "Crazy Legs" Hirsch of writers for the periodicals. She needed, but didn't apparently always get, the best of the defensive backs (editors) put on her, because when she breaks into the secondary unimpeded it can be an exhausting chase. She had very "happy" feet. Still, she shouldn't be overlooked since her "Problem of the Hickory Tree" and "Teach Me To Love" (poem), for example, were frequently reprinted. And there are other articles worth perusing. Articles of Wheatley, Seeley, and Simon should be available from The Bookmark. Tutt had one collection there as well, but it may no longer be available.

Mary Baker Eddy is obviously sui generis, but these writers are indeed, with the noted exceptions, the quill. I got to know them while serving in a Reading Room with all those bound volumes of the periodicals, so here is a good, if slightly self-serving, reason to sign up for duty. All these writers will repay munificently the time one spends with them.

Gumshoe Sentinels?

Here I am once again a touch chastened. There may have been some ready, fire, aim in my assertion in the previous entry that we need to relentlessly ferret out error in out thinking. Well, of course we need to find error and get rid of it, but an excellent Journal article by L. Ivimy Gwalter, "What It Means To Be A Christian Scientist" (June 1970), makes some useful and perhaps corrective (for me) and refining points. The article focuses in part on the need for watching and shows that Mrs. Eddy very often couples prayer with watching as one way to meet and overcome error, false belief. One needs to go no farther than page one, paragraph one, of Science and Health for a QED of Mrs. Gwalter's observation.

On the other hand, no where that I can recall does Mrs. Eddy admonish us to unite as a band of Chestnut Hill Irregulars, don our Holmesian deerstalkers, and set out (mentally, of course) to find a demon's spoor and drive a wooden stake in its evil heart when it is located (to mash together a couple of metaphors). As Pogo famously stated: "We has met the enemy, and it is us." If we watch our thinking faithfully, aggressive mental suggestion will show up soon enough (by definition), like the Blob. There are doubtless days for many of us when we may be up to our necks in mortal mind's malignant and nefarious blob of suggestions. Mrs. Eddy wastes no time in Science and Health telling us what we can do to take these serpents by the tail, snake by snake, and start our own collection of sturdy staffs upon which we can lean in the future.

Consecrated Canoeing Contra Carnal Cataracts

Like most life-long Christian Scientists I have probably read the parable of the sower (Matt 13 and Luke 8) hundreds of times. No doubt, I have usually taken a bit of smug solace in the thought that though I might not be a blue-ribbon producer I had at least achieved the status of marginally "good ground". I am thus sheepishly indebted to Emma Shipman (a student of Mrs. Eddy) who pointed out in one of her (too few) excellent articles that it is unlikely we are wholly one or even two of the four mental states in the parable, but rather may partake (liberally?) of all to varying degrees. This humblingly inspired thought somehow never suggested itself to me, though it was, I fear, blindingly obvious to everyone else. Now I can, I hope, take legitimate comfort in a fruitful garden here and there while vigilantly ferreting out those numerous, inobtrusive wayside, stony, and brambly places and then doing something Christianly Scientific about them.

Ms Shipman discussed in the same article the parable of the tares (also Matt 13), and it has become clear to me, at least, that the enemy who sowed those tares isn't running amok out there in the neighborhood, in my sinful neighbor's back yard for example, but in the only there there is, ones own thinking, ones own consciousness, and harvest time for tares may be for some of us as frequent as bedtime for Bonzo, i.e., daily. It is all too easy to view Jesus' parables as inspiring, but somewhat abstract, metaphysical lessons, when in fact they are instructions for daily behavior and thus need to be acted upon, not merely cogitated.

It might not be amiss for us to think of ourselves as paddling our little mental canoes a short distance upstream from mortal mind's Niagara Falls. The waters around us may appear to be smooth and calm, but the unsensed current of aggressive mental suggestion is strong, and if we don't paddle vigorously against it we could be swept over the falls. We would then learn the very hard lesson that the challenges of canoeing above the falls are preferable to the challenges of having capsized because we went over it. As the proberb says, a stitch in time saves nine.

Sticking To A Hedgehog's One Big Thing

An impressive passel of almosts, of good thoughts and intentions, is not like a drawer full of green stamps [Doesn't that take you back?] which can be pasted into the books and eventually exchanged for a complete demonstration. Thought must germinate (spiritually) like a seed and emerge from the darkness and gloom of materiality into the light of Truth. The mesmerism of mortal mind would see to it one only puts down roots into matter, but never grows up and out of it into the light of spirituality.

Samuel Greenwood pointed out in one of his Association papers (1943) that we live in far more hectic and distracting times than those who lived in the centuries covered by the Bible (Note he wrote that over 65 years ago.), and this has deprived many of time desperately needed for silent communion with God. "Our life is frittered away by detail. . . . Simplify, simplify." (Thoreau, Walden) There is that philosophical distinction (first made by Isaiah Berlin, I think) between the hedgehog and the fox. The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows that one big thing. We need to be hedgehogs who know that one big thing: God through Christian Science. What's good for a fox may not be so for man.

Mrs. Eddy advises and cautions us to emerge gently from matter into Spirit, but emerge does not mean ooze glacially. Like Woody Allen's shark in "Annie Hall" we need constant motion (progress), but not unwise haste. Material man is not a chrysalis state in which one pupates, to emerge one auspicious day as God's perfect spiritual idea. Matter will no doubt seem as ugly, threatening, and fearful as it needs to to deep one in its thrall--if he lets it. We must, therefore, demonstrate daily, to some extent, that one big thing, the omnipotent power of Christian Science and divine Love, which are able to "unclasp the hold and . . . destroy disease, sin, and death." (S&H 412: 13-15)

In Glock We Trust or In God We Trust?

Would St. Paul be the beloved Christian soldier that he is if he had gone out to confront the pagan world in the name of Christ Jesus attended by a cohort of burly, heavily-armed retainers? Would Christ Jesus not have been wise to pack a little heat as protection against poisonous snakes, wild animals, or brigands? Aren't these just the innocent and "prudent" little lies that get the unwary to keep some pills handy, "just in case", or have a "judicious" contingency plan with a local MD or pharmacist? "If I let the guy with the scythe mow me down like a sheaf of wheat I'm no good to Christian Science, my family, my church, or myself, am I?"

What has one gained, though, when he is "alive" but cravenly faithless to God, rather than dead to the lie of life in matter and faithful and obedient to Christ? There is never enough security in matter, medical procedures, or drugs. The need keeps growing for more and more powerful tools and medicines, and yet the juggernaut of affliction and disease rolls on, undeterred and with ever more aggressive mien. I think of that ridiculous arsenal in "Men in Black", from derringer-sized to ludicrously large, all to little avail as I recall. [Yes, I am ashamed to admit I watched this movie.]

Medical practice can say, for example, that as a result of their enlightened ministrations people live longer than ever. If a rest home packed with vegetating nonagenarians is proof of medical progress, tant pis. W.W. Jacob's excellent short story "The Monkey's Paw" makes a related point very memorably. There are Gog and Magog, and there is God. One can't frolic in both their sand boxes, nor can he hedge a bet with one from the standpoint of the other. There are no degrees of purity or virtue.

The Enchanting Enchantment of the Apothecary

Probably hundreds of millions of the world's people have in their homes a small nook containing an image or images of deities or beings they worship or pray to. One would like to think that in more "advanced" countries there had been enlightened progress beyond this more material form of worship, but has not traditional idolatry often been merely exchanged for more up-to-date and more inimical ones? In the U.S., and doubtless elsewhere, one sees frequently on the news someone sitting blissfully before a vast array of pill-bottles with an expression of awe befitting an epiphany and with an attitude of reverence he may never have felt for even his loving Father-Mother God.

The ongoing health-care debate in the U.S. has highlighted the extent to which health care and drugs are aggressively asserting a pervasive, all-consuming influence on the lives of most Americans. Medical treatment and drugs (legal and illegal) have become a thoroughly mesmeric miasma permeating the mental atmosphere of all. Unless vigorously exposed and sedulously resisted by loyal Christian Scientists, this evil influence can and will endanger anyone. It is even undermining the alreadly precarious financial stability of the U.S.

In Revelation, St. John mentions sorcerers and sorcery. The Greek word translated as sorcerer in the KJV is pharmakeus or pharmakos, and the word translated as sorcery is pharmakeia. Pharmakeus means an enchanter with drugs (Dummelow says, on what basis I cannot determine, literally "poisoner") and pharmakeia enchantment with drugs. The English cognates of these Greek words should be obvious, and St. John's prophecy and warning should be a command for alacritous metaphysical action for any true Christian Scientist. This is certainly one insidious and malignant assault on man's health and well-being that cannot simply be ignored or given pause until a more convenient time.

A Modest Disclosure

Among the opinions abroad is the assertion that my failure to reveal myself fully is pusillanimous. There are very good reasons for my not doing so, but even if I am a cowardly lion I alone will bear the shame. I don't charge visitors to the blog, and no one is being dragooned into reading my thoughts. I am saying what I feel needs to be said the way I wish to say it. If my method or content is objectionable, injured parties are free to take their offended sensibilities elsewhere or even engage in a spirited, substantive defense of their invested positions.

Cambridge concurs in my need to be circumspect, and I still have strong suspicions that some friendly-seeming Sanballats, Tobiahs, and Geshems would very much like to blandish Christian into a powwow in one of the villages in the plain of Ono. Phil Davis' (Manager, Committees on Publication) quiet shot across the bow in the March Journal is one little reminder that the official Keepers of the Flame do not appreciate being second-guessed. It may also be worth repeating for more recent readers of this blog that the author is not "Christian" as in exemplary paradigm for mankind, but "Christian" as in the leading character in John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress.

To give what little biographical information can be wisely disclosed will probably prove more disappointing than saying nothing. These crumbs will seem like the pulling back of the curtain which concealed (in the movie) the Wizard of Oz. To give dates and places would only whet the appetite of some diligent triangulator. I was, as some suspected, an English major in college (BA, MA, plus a bit), but never taught it except as a graduate instructor of Freshman English. Served in the Army for 3+ years, then for over 20 years in training and education with the Federal Government. Most of my love of literature, music, and the arts was cultivated and deepened after college. I am class taught, a member of the MC, was a Reader, and have served as a Sunday School teacher, board member, and usher. Aren't you glad you asked?

Letting Go Entirely Of The Adam Dream

Even if the false claims of matter and mortal mind are daily becoming less real because of greater spiritual understanding and demonstration, one may still retain an inhibiting, Antaeus-like adherence to terra firma. Mrs. Eddy makes it clear one should emerge gently from matter into Spirit, but her "gently" doesn't mean ones indulgence sine die of a little more hair of the dog that bit him. Matter, the subjective state of mortal mind, is not like Longfellow's little girl "Who had a little curl/Right in the middle of her forehead;/And when she was good she was very, very good,/But when she was bad she was horrid." Whether pacific or truculent, matter and mortal mind have to go, to be resolved into their scientific nothingness.

Even Christian Scientists are undoubtedly going to be "in" the body for an indefinite time, but that doesn't condemn them to being "of" it as well. [I would like to use italics here and there, but the blog word processing won't cooperate] All Scientists should strive to entertain that "white-winged angel throng/of thoughts" to the exclusion of all other thoughts. The least concession to material thinking deprives them of the seal of God on their foreheads and invites the locusts of Revelation. Progress may be sometimes painful and sometimes painless, but it must be achieved, and delay only increases our indebtedness to God and prolongs the penalty for lollygagging.

Note: My concerns with the full-text Bible lessons were explained in some of the earliest entries to this blog, so there is no point in rehashing them. As a former Reader, I wish I had been able to read from a full-text lesson on Sundays. No more Sunday afternoons largely given over to erasing blue chalk markings, taking out markers, putting markers back in for the new lesson, and re-marking. Yes, there are still Scriptural Selections, Benedictions, and Wednesday readings, but not having the Sunday lesson to mark would have saved hundreds of hours over three years. In short, using the full-text lessons would be perhaps more of a boon to Readers than readers. And what real difference would it make if both Readers on Sunday read from the full-text? What if a husband and wife Reader team left home and drove 50 miles to church only to realize they had forgotten their books and had to read from the full-text lessons? Would that be some kind of blasphemy or an invalid service? Suppose one certain Reader always read with inspiration from the full-text lessons and another dully bumbled his way along Sunday after Sunday obediently using the books. Is the latter still more correct? Except, of course, as readers of this blog know, Mrs. Eddy states clearly that "Readers shall not read from copies or manuscripts, but from the books." (Manual, Article III, Sect. 4) Doesn't this really mean that it is just as necessary for students of the Bible lessons to use the books as it is for Readers?

"A little learning is a dangerous thing" Pope

"I've grown accustomed to your face" the song says, and unfortunately too many Christian Scientists have grown accustomed to the face of full-text Bible lessons, audio Bible lessons, and even video presentations thereof. Some may need to make temporary use of audio lessons, but to use them as a permanent study sippy-cup is to remain a student in diapers. The cowbird of convenience has laid its egg in many mental nests, and upon hatching, the chick has rudely ejected the Bible and writings of Mary Baker Eddy. These modern "aids", or whatever they are, are a bit like the old movie illusion where persons are seen "riding" in a car, train, stagecoach, bus, etc., but they only appear to be moving because just the background they are superimposed against moves, giving the false impression of progress. This trick is ok in movies, but a very bad MO, so to speak, for the study of Christian Science. Thus the dying of the Light undoubtedly goes on in many well-meaning minds.

Mrs. Eddy demanded the study and pondering of the Bible and her writings. In answer to the question "How can I progress most rapidly in the understanding of Christian Science?" she answers (in part) "Study thoroughly the letter and imbibe the spirit." (S&H 495: 25-28) There is really no easy-does-it option for the would-be dabbler and plodder in Science who is content to back up fellow wanderers in the slow lane. The two Ben Jonson epigrams which Mrs. Eddy provides as epigraphs to Prose Works leave no doubt what she expected. A cannon-ball or two and leisurely float on an air mattress are not a vigorous work-out in the pool any more than listening every day to the Bible lesson on tape or CD is study. Does anyone doubt that (with the exception of a temporary need) Mrs. Eddy would have metaphysically applied one of her dainty shoes to the backside of these expedients had they arisen under her watch?

Reading, even methodical, somnambulistic daily reading, of the Bible and writings of MBE is not study per se. The dictionary bit can be annoying, but the Student's Dictionary has this definition (in part) for study: to fix the mind closely upon a subject; to dwell upon in thought; to apply the mind to books; to endeavor diligently. And (in part) for ponder: to weigh in the mind; to view with deliberation; to examine. So presumably if a Christian Scientist is not doing those things he isn't being obedient to the behests of Christ Jesus and Mrs. Eddy. Their enjoinders are shoes our minds must become accustomed to no matter how ill they may seem to fit today.

Peekaboo!

Loyal Christian Scientists no doubt steer clear of medicine and drugs, but how many unwisely admit error through the subtle sophistries of certain types of exercise or aerobics (AKA recreation), gluttony via munchies or trencherman excess (AKA eating), or excessive attention to hygiene (AKA practical cleanliness)? If God fills all space, and of course He does, then even the most "innocent" indulgence of anything mortal or material is a sinful repudiation of His omnipotence and omnipresence. "Hidden sin is spiritual wickedness in high places." (S&H 453: 20-21) Even a pea held close enough to the eye will obscure the sun.

One may well take pride in avoiding the obvious snares, pits, and falls, but is he entirely honest about confronting the armies of devilettes which ceaslessly scurry about in frontal attack, infiltration, and ambush to tempt and harry him? Love handles and raffish deshabille may have their charm in society, but they may also mask serious failings. For some individuals a cannoli may be as dangerous a temptation as a snort of cocaine to others. No wisp of error, mesmerism, or aggressive mental suggestion is too insignificant to receive ones scrupulous attention, refutation, and destruction. The devil doesn't show up in a loud, mustard-yellow, polyester leisure suit complete with a "Hello, my name is Old Nick" self-adhesive tag. He is far more likely to slip in unnoticed on his little cat feet to dispense his honeyed, insidious, and sometimes fatal whisperings.

Note: Requests for biographical information have not gone unnoticed. How to respond is being pondered, since not all queries may be motivated by kindly interest, and there is a danger in letting the unruly camel of person get its nose into the tent. One needs to be wise even at the possible expense of appearing to be coy. There will doubtless be more later.

Beware the Snooze Button

Two important Christian qualities, which Mrs. Eddy also strongly emphasizes, are patience and watchfulness. They can easily be relegated, however, to a forty-winks, easy-chair, feet-on-the-footstool mode. Calm vegetation might be a cozy modus operandi to some for patience and watchfulness, but passivity is an almost iron-clad guarantee that spiritual progress isn't being made. It may even be a breeding ground for more insidious forms of error and false belief.

The Student's Reference Dictionary, an abridgment of the "American Dictionary of the English Language", which Mrs. Eddy is said to have used, gives in part more active definitions of both patience and watchfulness. One definition of patience is: perseverance; constancy in labor or exertion. And of watchfulness: vigilance; suspicious attention; careful and diligent observation for the purpose of preventing or escaping danger, or of avoiding mistakes and misconduct. Doing a better job of embodying the Daily Prayer is a good place to start each day in our demonstration of salutary patience and watchfulness.

Note to Helen: Regarding the title of this blog, it is probably obvious that it comes from Luke 5: 5-6 (KJV). More accurate translations say torn or ripped, but the point is the same. It is certain that I have yet to fulfill my duty to become a fisher of men whose net, first of all, has been filled and who, secondly, is able to bring the catch ashore without the net breaking, as exemplified in John 21: 6-11. Mrs. Eddy gives an inspiring explanation of these two events in Miscellaneous Writings 111: 4-14. This blog offers in its way my modest thoughts on how I (and perhaps we Christian Scientists) can do better and be a more faithful fisherman in obedience to my Father-Mother God and the Master Christian.

You Won't Find It At The Dollar Store

The Kingdom of Heaven is ever-present. Hence, it is always available to be experienced. Then why doesn't it seem more evident? Because it is not appreciable to sick and sinful mortal thought. Then how does one perceive and gain the Kingdom of Heaven? Two of Christ Jesus' parables in particular, juxtaposed in Matthew 13: 44-46, answer that question: the treasure in the field and the pearl of great price.

It is perhaps worth noting that the man who stumbles on the treasure in the field does not simply sneak off with it, but re-burys (the KJV says hides) it. Then he sells all that he has and buys the field. No doubt many men and women desire the Kingdom of Heaven, but only if they can get it on the cheap. It apparently isn't worth to them "all that they have".

What does it mean to sell all that one has and buy it, since it is certain the Kingdom of Heaven cannot be bought with money? Here J. R. Dummelow's Commentary is most helpful. "Their teaching [those two parables] is that it is not enough to be outwardly a Christian or to be under Christian influences. The true Christian must be inwardly convinced that his religion is the most precious of all things." To buy the field the man "sells all that he has, i.e. gives up all that can hinder him in his quest . . . ." To buy the pearl of great price the merchant "Selleth all that he hath] i.e. gives up every sin or self-indulgence which hinders him from giving himself wholeheartedly to Christ."

"Christian Science may be sold in the shambles. Many are bidding for it,--but are not willing to pay the price." (Mis. 269: 25-26) "Seek Truth, and pursue it. It should cost you something: you are willing to pay for error and receive nothing in return; but if you pay the price of Truth, you shall receive all." (Mis. 342: 24-27)

Beatific Berceuses or Cacophanous Concertos?

A twelve-tone lullaby by Arnold Schoenberg, if there were such an anomaly, would be more likely to induce nightmares than sweet dreams. Similarly, only a tin ear would ever confuse Messiaen with Mozart or Stockhausen with Schubert. Notes blending in harmony are, or should be, easy to distiguish from dissonance or atonality. It might be worth considering how often the inharmonies we experience are a result of the clash in our minds of disparate thoughts, speech, or actions which do not blend in concord.

No matter how many pure thoughts we may entertain, a single devilish or even "innocent" impish one can result in a discordant emulsion of sickness, disease, or discord. We should not forget or ignore the treachery of mortal mind, false belief, which would ever attempt to confine (Mrs. Eddy's word) or hedge us about with its unreality as a means of marring and molesting (Mrs. Eddy's words) the pure idea which is God's man, His reflection. The slightest impurity renders the whole impure. It is written that "whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all." (James 2: 10)

Dura lex sed lex. Hard words. Yet we can be grateful that Christ Jesus has shown us the Way, that Mary Baker Eddy has given us the means in Christian Science, and that our dear Father-Mother God has endowed each of us with the necessary ability to work out his own salvation. "The work to be performed is ours,/The strength is all His own." (Hymn 354)

"Now, dear God, here I am, use me." MBE

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." So wrote Thoreau in Walden about a century and a half ago. Yet today millions, sadly including Christians, are still on the run, remorselessly hectored and affrighted by named and nameless fears and the ruthless tyranny of medical doctors and medicine. Christian Science and the omnipotent and omnipresent Father-Mother God wait with loving patience for those "honest seekers for Truth" who humbly submit to the leading of the "kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom".

This fad and that have become the quest of desperate moments, anodynes to quiet fears and pains. Mrs. Eddy wisely warns us: "A fad of belief is the fool of mesmerism." (My 218: 22) Multitudes pass their lives drugged, stultified, and stupefied by these beckoning fads, the unholy gods they have come to cherish. Those who have named the name of Christ can help: indeed it is their duty to do so. They must follow their Shepherd and in meekly following lead others by example to the peace and safety of the fold.

The growing tendency for extremes in all things needs to be stilled. There seems to be either apathy and lethargy or murderous fanaticism and hateful bigotry. There seems to be either drought or flood, parching, cloudless skies or violent storms. The monsoons fail to arrive or they come and put half a country under water and tens of thousands perish. There seems to be less and less evidence of simple normality. One is either a hero (and the threshold for anointment these days is about the level of, well, a threshold) or a schmo. And yesterday's hotly sought dosage, dram, or diversion is found wanting today. If Christian Scientists are not willing to unsee and correct these false beliefs, who else is able to do so?

"The true Science--divine Science--will be lost sight of again unless we arouse ourselves. This demonstrating to make matter build up is not Science. The building up of churches, the writing of articles and the speaking in public is the old way of building up a cause. The way I brought this Cause into sight was through HEALING: and now these other things would come in and hide it just as was done in the time of Jesus." (MBE, "Notes on the Course in Divinity") The source of this quote may be regarded as spurious to many, but the thrust of it rings true.

"As adherents of Truth . . . ."

"It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God [Heb 10:31]; but a blessed thing it is, and will bring us to everlasting blessedness in the end, when God speaketh unto us, to hearken; when He setteth His Word before us, to read it; when He stretcheth out His hand and calleth, to answer, Here am I; here we are to do thy will, O God.
The Lord work a care and conscience in us to know Him and serve Him . . . ."

For this quote I am indebted to James Moffatt, who directed me to its source, the "Preface of the Translators to the Reader" of the King James (Authorized) Version, 1611, of the Bible, in his magesterial and eloquent "Introduction" to his own inspired translation of the Bible. Though fairly lengthy, this Preface should be a part of every KJV/AV Bible, but, shamefully, almost never is. Instead we get without fail the short, somewhat fawning, and largely irrelevant (today) "Epistle Dedicatory".

To attempt to comment or elaborate on the above passage would be impertinent. The humility, dedication, and scholarship of those translators shines throughout their Preface and their glorious translation and attests to their selfless dedication and diligence. Given the enormous sacrifices so many have made over the centuries to bless mankind with translations of this priceless book, any Christian Scientist who gives or has given the Bible short shrift should be mortified at his apostasy. A good annotated version of the Preface is available on the internet and is well worth perusing at least once.

The indelible importance of the King James Version (AV) of the Bible to Christian Scientists and the glow the Preface puts upon it make a felicitous topic for The Broken Net's 100th posting. "As adherents of Truth, we take the inspired Word of the Bible as our sufficient guide to eternal Life." (S&H 497: 3-4)

The Consolationless Consolation Prize

We read in II Kings 13:18-19 that when Joash, the king of Israel, came to Elisha he was asked, in part, to strike the ground with some arrows. Joash did so three times, but Elisha was angry with him because he had not struck the ground five or six times. Elisha prophesied that as a result of his striking the ground only three times Joash would defeat Syria three times, but not utterly defeat them.

Though it isn't obvious that Joash did anything wrong, it is apparent Elisha detected an unwillingness on Joash's part to persist to the complete defeat of Syria. The lesson seems to be that a desire to alleviate the effects of error only to some convenient degree is not sufficient or wise. Error, false belief, must be pursued until its total nothingness is seen and demonstrated. Anything less only allows for error's resurgence, and in perhaps more virulent forms.

Even though our primary motive for prayer, study, and growth in understanding may be to mitigate mortal mind's aggressive suggestions, we must not make the mistake of easing up prematurely in our work to totally destroy error. False belief incompletely handled and annihilated may be subtly tolerated and hence nurtured. If we decide to put our hands to the plow we must resolve never to slacken our effort until the victory is complete or even indulge in a quick backward glance. Joash was apparently willing only to kick the can up the road a ways and leave it in the first drainage ditch into which it rolled inconveniently. We know where this kind of unprincipled, self-gratifying, and cowardly approach to things has gotten the U.S. politically and financially. We can't afford to indulge the same follies in our dealings with mortal mind.

It might seem naively quixotic to be pursuing the Adversary to its final destruction in an age when a dotty governor is hoping to conjure up some demented menage a trois with his Argentinian soul mate and his now inconvenient wife. That goofiness makes one look back almost fondly to those happy days when we were only asked to ponder, with a straight face, what the meaning of is is. Either we resolve to follow Christ in the Way all the way and sedulously do it, or we don't. There are no silver and bronze medals for well-intentioned lollygagging or the aimless ciliations of a paramecium. A self-indulgent fondness for human weaknesses and foibles only adds to our indebtedness to God and delays the ultimate realization of spiritual perfection.

Hearing Truth's Susurrus Loud and Clear

My apologies for the (perhaps welcome) hiatus--assuming anyone noticed and cares enough to return and read this belated entry. Lives have become far too complex and frantic. We probably have at least 50 electric motors, large and small, in this house and its contents, the majority of which hum along efficiently and reliably day after day, but with that many motors and their attendant compressors, appliances, and devices, lawns and plantings and their innumerable biological afflictions, water, electricity, and gas with their respective meters spinning ever, it seems, a toute vitesse, one's home can readily become, without good metaphysical work, the devil's rec room.

Akira Kurosawa's superb film Ran (chaos), a masterpiece, is his retelling of Shakespeare's King Lear, as his magnificent Throne of Blood is a retelling of Macbeth. Both of these films are set in Japan's chaotic medieval period and testify, in part, to mortal mind's hidden conspiracy to assert itself and drown out goodness, love, and peace. If permitted to do so, tumult will indeed drown out, in our consciousness, Truth and its still small voice.

Why doesn't Truth drown out error with an even louder voice? Why does Truth seem to speak sotto voce? Well, first of all, Truth's omnipotence and omnipresence do not compete with anything, being All. The comptition for attention is in our thinking. Mrs. Eddy tells us we must "silence the material senses". (S&H 15:16) When prayerfully listened for and heard "The inaudible voice of Truth is, to the human mind, 'as when a lion roareth.'" (S&H 559:10-11) So it is perfectly audible to the receptive thought, but often the din of material existence seems to drown it out. We cannot afford to suppose that Truth is ever drowned out by anything, even for a moment. It can only be our disobedience to God which deafens us to Him and turns up the volume on cacophanous human activity.

False belief, personal sense, always plays with a cold deck, and we must quit taking that tempting seat at its card table and again and again tossing our ante hopefully into the pot. It is a game no one ever wins but the house of error. If we haven't already done so we would be wise to "Be still and know that I am God", or "Let be then: learn that I am God". (The New English Bible)

Divine Direction Disrobes Depraved Delights

Surely one of the most original and fantastic masterpieces ever painted is Hieronymus Bosch's preternatural and phantasmagoric triptych "The Garden of Delights" or "The Garden of Earthly Delights". Yet the title is undeniably sardonic, ironic, saturnine, since if these are earthly delights one would shrink from his depiction of earthly horrors. One of the panels is even thought to be a depiction of hell. One writer says the painting's purpose is " . . . to depict man's life on earth as an unending repitition of the Original Sin of Adam and Eve, whereby we are all doomed to be the prisoners of our appetites." (H.W. Janson, History of Art, 1969, p. 299) Another writer says: "Bosch seems to show erotic temptation and sensual gratification as a universal disaster . . . ." (Helen Gardner, Art Through the Ages, 5th edition, p. 525) Does not Bosch's surreal vision reveal the truth about the material delights mankind seems to indulge and revel in?

Many years ago a friend, Lewis Meyer, an erstwhile bibulous bibliophile, wrote a book titled Off the Sauce about his struggles with that all-too-prevalent demonic attraction. To employ an admittedly dodecaphonic segue, the title of his book seems to have relevance even to those many of us who are not in our cups. Would not we all benefit greatly from getting off the insidious sauce called sensual and sensuous attractions and delights? Does not the tippling of these potent distillations of mortal mind engender those fearful pink elephants of sin, disease, and death?

Obviously none of us wants to experience the crushing tread of pink pachyderms, but how fervently do we really want to get off the sauce? Fear and doubt usually have major supporting roles in this drama--fear of the supposed reality of the terrifying hallucinations of false belief and perhaps the shame of doubting that our heavenly Father-Mother God will, scout's honor, make good on His promises. Have you ever had the thought flitter across your mind that if you could just get another little earnest of His healing omnipotence and omnipresence up-front you'd really knuckle down and do better work? Do we not want to snatch a reassuring glimpse of the lagniappe on its way to us right now to allay our nagging doubts and fears, when what's necessary is to turn from the belief of fleshly existence and accept the divine gift of Truth that has been available all along?

The material, human experience is not all Brussels sprouts, tripe, bills, and taxes. Ah yes, how many of us retain a perhaps guilty fondness, a sweet tooth, for many of the enticing offerings on materiality's resplendent desert tray? The devil would like us to sin in haste and repent at lethargic and sated leisure. In the cynical Weill/Brecht opera Die Dreigroschenoper, The Threepenny Opera, Macheath sings "Erst kommt das Fressen, dann kommt die Moral." Or "First comes the grub, then come the morals." That's a cynic's song with its cynic's exploitation of human proclivities. Mortal mind has us believe the grub is haute cuisine, and many of us can't seem to resist or get enough. The promised morals unfortunately go unheard and unheeded during the usual post-prandial snooze. The time has come, came long ago in fact, for us to uncover and awaken from the illusions of mortal mind, and Christ Jesus and Mary Baker Eddy have lovingly shown us the Way to getting off the sauce and permanently on the path to complete salvation. "Without this process of weaning, 'Canst thou by searching find out God?'" (S&H 322: 30-31)

Wise Dropouts

If as a result of some computation hijinks you found your check register balance was a few hundred dollars short, would you lapse into despair and abandon hope of ever getting the missing money back? Obviously not, since a few calm minutes with a pencil (or pen or calculator) would undoubtedly restore the phantom loss. So why are we so often cowed, disheartened, and discouraged by an equally phantom loss of health, security, or peace of mind?

Mrs. Eddy asks essentially the same question, though with greater Scientific precision: " . . . why should we stand aghast at nothingness?" (S&H 563: 7) We stand aghast at the nothingness of matter because we have been thoroughly indoctrinated over many years in mortal mind's ubiquitous classrooms to fear, obey, and respect all the falsities that accompany a belief in material existence. These false beliefs cling to each of us with varying degrees of tenacity, but 10,000 x 4=39,000 is no more real an error than 10 x 4=39 or 0 x 0=1. Why count the teeth in the beast facing you if not one of them can ever bite God's man? It is only false beliefs derived from a misbegotten education that make us fear matter's putative savagery. Let us once again thank our Leader for and perhaps mosey around to acting on her wise statement: "The entire education of children should be such as to form habits of obedience to the moral and spiritual law, with which the child can meet and master the belief in so-called physical laws, a belief which breeds disease." (S&H 62:4-7) A childlike thought should also qualify for re-education.

Even those of us who avoided a summa cum laude degree in false education can undoubtedly do a better job of ridding ourselves of what we did acquire, course by course, and replacing depraved thoughts with an abiding consciousness of Truth, Life, and Love. We must now and forever sit enraptured at the feet of Christ and drop out of the sordid classrooms of mortal mind, however compelling they may seem.

The Unlimited Unfoldment of Holy Thoughts

Prudential Insurance, smartly co-opting a powerful Christian symbol, reassuringly offers us "a piece of the rock" (for a price of course). As Christian Scientists we all would like our own comforting piece of the Rock--Christ, Truth. But do the specifics of how to individualize what can seem like solidly monolithic Truth get lost in a muzzy fog of timorousness and uncertainty? How can one uniquely express infinite God?

We can start by realizing we do not express God's infinity or omnipresence, but His qualities. A small piece of the rock has all the qualities of the whole rock, except, of course, size, but we are not trying to be God, but to reflect Him. Nevertheless, when we get down to the nitty-gritty of our own individual expression, the vastness of the Original can be daunting and overwhelming. We must then claim our oneness with infinite Mind, all-intelligence. Doing that, even imperfectly, should enable us to realize that nothing can limit our ability to understand and express God. That does not mean we think about God, but develop and increase our understanding of Him.

Anton Diabelli, a music publisher and minor composer, sent to a number of contemporary composers a little waltz tune of his own composition, asking each to submit a variation on it, which he would collect from all and publish. One of the composers he included was Beethoven. At first the irascible genius disdained the publicity ploy and the trite waltz as well, calling it a "Schusterfleck", a mere cobbler's patch. But even though he tossed it aside, the tune apparently gestated in that great musical mind, and the result was perhaps the finest set of variations ever written: the 33 "Diabelli Variations", a 50-60 minute masterpiece. My point, long in coming, is that if Beethoven can do this with a humble cobbler's patch to start with, shouldn't we be able to realize unlimited unfoldment in our own contemplation of God and the truths of Christian Science? It can be done and must be done if we are to put off the old man and demonstrate the complete spiritual selfhood of the new man.

If need be, we should see and think of ourselves as artists as well as Scientists. Did not Mrs. Eddy call all of us sculptors (S&H 248: 13) and if sculptors, then artists? And note that as sculptors we mould as well as chisel thought, i.e., work with the pliable in our consciousness as well as the resistant. We cannot be content to merely think about the truths that come to us, but we must wrestle with them like Jacob until our thought is blessed by an uplifting angel message.

One can hear many rich examples of the unfolding, development, or expansion of musical ideas by listening to Haydn. His music is, to me at least, clearer and simpler (but no less great for it)than, say, Mozart or Beethoven, who can be quite complex. Haydn wrote 104 symphonies, 50+ string quartets, 125 trios for baryton, viola, and cello, 43 trios for piano, violin, and cello, and about 60 piano sonatas. A conservative guess would be that there are over 1200 movements in these works alone, with each movement treating a theme in some way. He is a constant joy and inspiration to listen to, and if he can do all this, with original themes to boot, and far more, without Christian Science (genius though he was), how can we entertain the slightest inertia or feeling of limitation with all we have in Christian Science? There should scarcely seem enough hours in each day to ponder all the angel thoughts which God sends to our side to "comfort, guard and guide". (Hymn #9)

Le Petit Boston Grand Guignole

[The curtain lifts in medias res.]

We've got to breathe some life into this thing or we're going to have one humongous corpse to explain away. Any ideas?

We've tried everything. The Gill bio didn't exactly ignite a firestorm of interest in the Church. Talk about pooping in you own nest. And we've oked about everything but human sacrifice, S-M, and group sex. Members don't even have to crack a book any more. We've done it all for them, practically pre-digested everything, and the one or two minutes it takes to get through the full-text lesson is still too much. Maybe we can come up with something they can put under their pillows at night and grow wise and spiritual as they snore away the hours.

We've got to do something to at least look like we're inspired. What do the stars and planets say?

Now, you know I won't talk about that. It's a delicate personal matter.

I'm not talking about your love life. I'm referring to today's horoscope, not your blasted eriscope. Oh, never mind.

Maybe a new Mrs Eddy would create some buzz.

Call "Rasputin" and we'll chew the rag some on that. She's been playing the role unofficially for years anyway. Let's dust off the old girl and let her go for it in prime time.

[Enter "Rasputin"]

"I've always depended upon the kindness of strangers." [simper] How's that?

We're looking for MBE not Tennessee Williams or whatever that was. How would you like to play the new Mrs. Eddy?

Play? I thought . . .

Confound it! We're talking serious strategy here, not delusion. If we don't get some spiritual Geritol into this church pretty soon, even the whippersnappers are going to lose their snap. Can you convince them you've got the latest word from cloud-cuckoo-land or somewhere?

Look, things are as lite now as we can make them. Any liter and we'll have to tie it all down and paint it black to find it.

Well, what do you suggest?

I'll do a revised S&H. Always wanted to anyway. That thing is drier than a five-year old fruitcake and needs updating for a contemporary audience. We could call it "Science and Health for Dummies". Kids with lots of loose change would probably think it's neato.

Neato? Good grief, you sound like a 70-year-old teenybopper.

Cool, hip, boss, then.

Oh brother. Maybe a lifelike, inflatable MBE with a good ventriloquist would do just as well. Could you . . .

No.